


Different people with a common pain

by hgb



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:53:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23674927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hgb/pseuds/hgb
Summary: After the opera, after being debriefed by Wilde, Sasha comforts Hamid in her own way.
Comments: 25
Kudos: 74





	Different people with a common pain

After being debriefed by Wilde, they’re shown to a set of rooms in the university and Hamid stops at his doorway, staring blankly at the impersonal furnishings and bland colors. The room feels like an endless void reaching out to swallow him whole. He shuts the door behind him and sits on the bed. Images of the evening filter through his mind, Aziza’s voice, the stage, Kafka’s mocking smile, rain on a rooftop, a shattered mug of hot chocolate. None of it feels real and he closes his eyes, willing it to be a terrible dream. He never hears the door open, but a soft voice cuts through the oppressive silence of the room. 

“Hamid?”

* * *

Sasha hesitates. She’s not sure what prompts her to look back before stepping into the room, but she does. Hamid stands just down the hall looking into his room, shoulders slumped and eyes unseeing. She’s never seen him quite like this, not in the catacombs, not in their Paris hotel room with his entire reality in question, or at the brewery where Zolf walked away, he’s never looked so lost. 

He steps inside without noticing her. She’s so tired. It’s been a long day and an even longer night. She wants nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep for a week. For a moment she looks toward Grizzop’s closed door, foolishly hoping for him to appear. He stepped in so effectively before, with hot chocolate, comforting words, a firm hug. He knew what to do. But his door remains closed, and she paces the hall nervously, stopping in front of Hamid’s room, raising a hand to knock, turning away. 

Frustration builds and she walks back toward her room with an exasperated sigh. She’s not the right person to do this. It should be Grizzop...or...or Zolf. She won’t be able to help. She’s half-turned the handle of her door and she remembers...she remembers the day she realized Brock was never coming back. She remembers losing the last faint vestiges of hope, accepting that he was gone, that she might never know why or where. She remembers grieving alone, finding her way to a high place, curling up beside a stone statue for the faint comfort of another presence. 

She remembers Zolf walking away. She remembers a day spent on a whirlwind restaurant tour, Hamid chattering non-stop about this entree, that dessert, his favorite appetizers, anything to fill the dwarf-sized void in the room. 

Words of hope, reassuring platitudes, gestures of comfort, they may be beyond her grasp. But Hamid shouldn’t be alone right now. He was there for her, and he needs her now. She may not be able to help, but she can be there. 

* * *

“Hamid?”

It’s Sasha. He never heard the door open, but there she is, shifting from foot to foot, looking anywhere but his face. “Sasha? What…”

“I...well...these Mars people, they don’t like me, yeah? And...I mean...they, the one who was talking to me said they were going to kill me, and Wilde showed up, and they didn’t, but, but still, they don’t like me...and I thought maybe...well, maybe I’d be safer if…”

Her hands gesture helplessly at the room, eyes flickering away from him. She’s lying. He knows she’s lying. In all the time they’ve traveled together, she’s never been able to bluff. Nervous about the Mars paladins, that’s true enough, but she’s not here for protection. The concern in her eyes isn’t for herself and something warms within him at the realization. Despite her clear discomfort, she came here for him. 

He gives her the lie, a barrier to hide her heart behind, and pulls up a faint smile. “Of course. You can stay here tonight. I don’t think I can sleep right now, so you can have the bed if you like.”

She practically bolts across the room, a bundle of nervous energy, and drops onto the sofa. “This’s fine.” They sit a moment in awkward silence and he’s suddenly unsure what to do or say. Perhaps he should just try to sleep. He’s about to say as much, when Sasha reaches into a pocket and pulls out a deck of cards. “I’m...I’m not really tired either. I mean, we were locked up so long, I just had a bit of a nap. Want to play a game?” 

It’s a lifeline, an escape, something to drown the memories overwhelming his mind if only for a little while. He nods, and she slips off the sofa onto the floor, cards flying through her fingers as she shuffles the deck. He settles cross legged on the carpet across from her and she begins explaining the rules. It’s a simple game, one that requires sharp eyes and quick reflexes and the few rounds Sasha fails to win, he’s sure she threw on purpose. At first the silence is filled by flicking cards and cries of victory, mostly from Sasha, and then she starts telling stories. 

“Brock taught me this game. He...we...we used to play it all the time. I almost always won, he was sharp but I was quick and he then made up this rule, right, where every time you win you have to hold five extra cards in your hand so it’ll take you longer to get rid of them all. So, what I did was…”

“...and then the guards spotted Jimmy, he was always an idiot, Jimmy was, no sense of timing, couldn’t blend with a crowd, always tripping over his own feet, which was weird, see, he could juggle six knives at a time, that’s why we called him Six Knives Jimmy, but he just couldn’t figure out what to do with his feet. Anyway, they spotted him and he started running, didn’t head for the rooftops, like I said, he’s an idiot, right? Should have just left him, but he gave me a loaded dice set once, so I…”

* * *

Eventually, he begins to tell a few stories of his own and her eyes are wide as he describes the scenery of Egypt and the city of Cairo. Words become inadequate and he jumps to his feet in a moment of inspiration, a faint gleam of mischief in his eye. He points at the dull, lifeless painting above the sofa. “Can you take that down?” 

Sasha cocks her head slightly, confused by the request, but she lifts the frame from its hook as he rummages in his bag for a pen. He eyes the bare patch of wall left behind, mentally mapping the dimensions to work within, and in sweeping strokes he begins to outline the Cairo skyline on the wall. She grins in delight and when he’s finished, she’s already moving across the room, lifting the next painting from the wall. 

This time, he draws a city street and a boy flicking knives above his head. Around the corner two children play with dice, a boy with a bright smile and a girl half-hidden by shadows. Sasha falls asleep looking at it while he sketches a bird’s eye view of Prague from their window. It’s nearly dawn when he finally crawls into bed. He looks at the memories from both of their lives, forever recorded on the walls, hidden surprises left behind for a curious stranger. He watches Sasha for a moment, sprawled across the sofa, breathing in a slow, steady rhythm. He is not alone. There are people who care, even when they have no words to express it. Hamid sleeps and for once his dreams are peaceful. 


End file.
